


The Arrangement

by artemisscribe



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Forced Marriage, I'm talking Mills and Boon levels of predictable here, Slow Burn, every arranged marriage cliche in the book
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:22:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemisscribe/pseuds/artemisscribe
Summary: Scott and Penny are promised to each other as the result of a business deal their fathers do. They reluctantly go through with it but as they spend more time together they discover that "Til Death Us Do Part" may not be such a terrible fate after all.





	1. Cold Feet

Lots of women have imagined their wedding day since they were little girls. Penelope won’t deny that she was one of them. But of all the times she wondered what that day might be like, she never imagined this; a stiff, formal affair where she had only ever met her future husband twice. She had always imagined, well, love. 

The manor is filled with flowers, waiters move effortlessly through crowds of well-dressed guests carrying platters of champagne and canap é s. The chatter of the guests is no more than a soft murmuring by the time it reaches Penelope’s bedroom where her mother is busy fussing over the final few touches on her wedding gown. 

Lady Elizabeth glances upwards as her daughter sighs, and delicately purses her lips.

“Penelope dear, please try not to look so glum. It’s your wedding day.”

Penelope arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow. She’s been up since six in the morning being primped and polished and buffed and scrubbed and powdered before being poured into the three levels of corsetry required to support this absurd wedding gown. 

Lady Elizabeth counters her daughter’s raised eyebrow with one of her own. So rather than point out the fact that she has a headache and she’s tired and her feet hurt Penny goes for an argument that might actually get her some sympathy.

“I just never imagined that this is what my marriage would be like.”

“Darling,” Lady Elizabeth sighs. “You read the contracts. You agreed to the deal.”

“And it is a very good deal” Penelope agrees, “But Mummy, it’s my wedding day. Aren’t I entitled to be a brat for just five minutes?”

“He’s a nice boy” Elizabeth insists. “Handsome, polite, wealthy, powerful. Darling you couldn’t do any better! Now smile.”

It’s more of an order than advice. So Penelope gives her best and brightest smile.

“Much better” her mother tells her, patting her on the shoulder. Not that Penelope feels any better. 

*

“Scott! My boy!” 

Scott quickly swallows his mouthful of champagne and turns around to see a man he doesn’t recognise heading towards him, arms outstretched.

“Oh, um, hi” he says, offering a hand out in vain attempt to preempt the coming invasion of his personal space.

It doesn’t work. Instead he gets a hearty slap on the back and nearly spills the rest of his drink on his shoes. 

“Pretty girl you’re bagging today son” the stranger booms.

“Yes sir” Scott says politely as he moves his glass from one hand to the other and tries to subtly shake his damp sleeve dry. Not that this guy would notice if he wasn’t being subtle. 

“Oh yes. Very pretty girl. Why if I were ten years younger…” the older man sighs wistfully as Scott mentally fills in the end of the sentence;

_ You’d still be twenty years too old for her you old creep _ .

“Well, you catch my drift” the loud guest says, “Give her one from me eh?”

And with a lecherous wink the old guy is gone, off into the crowd to no doubt do something that will one day be the subject of a sexual harassment lawsuit to one of Scott’s wedding guests. 

Scott sighs, and puts his now empty champagne flute on the platter of a passing waiter, grabbing the full one beside it in one easy motion.

“Scott!” 

He tenses, not yet ready to be accosted by yet another stranger looking to make inappropriate comments about the attractiveness of the woman he’s going to marry in forty five minutes. 

This time though the hand on his shoulder is gentle. It’s his father that’s approached him, and Scott’s so relieved to be talking to someone he actually knows that he ignores the look of disapproval on Jeff’s face. 

“Hi Dad!”

“Son, that’s your fourth glass. Take it easy okay?”

“I didn’t even get to drink the last one!” Scott complains, “Whats-his-nuts spilt it all over me while he was busy creeping me out!”

“Getting wasted before your wedding isn’t a good look is all I’m saying” Jeff warns.

“Don’t worry Dad, I’m well aware that all that matters is how things look today.”

Jeff tightens his grip on Scott’s shoulder, but his calm demeanor remains the same. He lowers his voice just enough so that only his son can hear him,

“Now listen here. This is happening and you’re not going to cause a scene in front of three hundred of our closest friends and most important clients. Understand?”

“Yes sir” Scott says bitterly.

“Good” Jeff says, “Now I’m going to have a quick word with Hugh about a business matter. You behave yourself and lay off the booze.”

“Yes sir” Scott repeats. 

Scott maintains his passive indifference until Jeff turns his back. Then he rolls his eyes and drains his champagne flute in one go.


	2. The Ceremony

“Are you drunk?” John murmurs as Scott takes his place at the front of the room.

“A little bit” Scott admits.

“Good” John says. 

Scott can’t stop himself in raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“What?” John asks “This whole thing is barbaric.”

Scott just shrugs, hiding the gesture as more of a straightening of his jacket. He’s glad to know that at least someone is on his side in all of this. He’s not even sure what his future wife thinks of all of this. In the brief meetings they’ve had so far the opportunity to ask never came up

Scott is mostly sober when the ceremony starts. Though he’s grateful to John for slipping him a breath mint as they take their places in the grand ballroom of Lord Creighton-Ward’s manor house. He really doesn’t want his wife’s first memory of their marriage to be of his booze breath as he says his vows. 

He rocks back and forth in his new patent leather shoes. He’s not quite broken them in properly so the leather creeks a little as he rocks. He sees his father give him a stern look but right now he doesn’t care. The urge to run is rising and the ridiculous noise is probably the only thing stopping him from giving in to it. 

It’s almost a relief when the string quartet strikes up the bride’s entrance music. He takes a deep breath and, as tradition demands, he turns to face the minister so he won’t see his bride until she’s right beside him. 

He glances over. She’s half hidden behind an antique lace veil, a family heirloom he will later learn, staring straight ahead as her father leans over her to place her hand on top of Scott’s. She gives him the briefest of glances and when she sees he’s looking at her he swears that he sees her cheeks go a little red. She’s embarrassed he caught her looking. He files that away for later. Right now he has to get through his vows without embarrassing himself.

*

Penny’s cheeks burn under her veil. 

Of course now he’ll think he has the upper hand in this whole sordid affair. 

She shouldn’t have looked away. It shows weakness. She isn’t weak, she’ll make damn sure he knows that soon enough. 

Though she feels weak. 

She knows she agreed to this, but really what other choice did she have? It’s not like her father has half a dozen daughters to choose from like Jeff has sons. And she’s always been mindful of her duty to her family and their interests. 

There are worse fates she supposes as they listen to the officiant explain what a solemn and important occasion a marriage is. After all Scott Tracy is fairly handsome and has so far been more than polite to her. 

Is that really what she had dreamt of when she thought about her future husband though? Not hideous and not an arsehole? How low the bar seems to be now that she’s actually here, placing her hand in his as he recites his vows. 

At least they’re both rich, she muses. If they don’t like each other they can live separate lives. Her parents have had a very happy thirty year marriage living separate lives. She can’t stop herself from smiling at the thought of her parents’ marriage being a role model for anyone. 

Scott squeezes her hand and she looks up at him again. Frowning. 

“Penelope?” the officiant prompts. 

“Oh!” she says, realising she’s missed her cue. “Yes.”

“Repeat after me, ‘I, Penelope Charlotte Alexandra,’”

Penny takes a deep breath.

“I, Penelope Charlotte Alexandra.”

No turning back now.


	3. The Reception

It’s over. She’s married. And now she’s sitting in a vast marquee on the south lawn with a fake smile as her father tells some ridiculous story that he thinks is about her but is actually about her cousin Caroline. She cannot believe she sacrificed her dignity and happiness for this man who can’t even think of one decent memory of her for his father of the bride speech. 

She thinks she may genuinely hate him. 

But she has to sit here in this beautiful dress, in this crowded room, and smile. Because it’s all for the look of thing. And yelling at her father and demanding an annulment isn’t a good look. 

She could follow her new husband’s example and keep steadily knocking back the champagne but that’s not really a good look either. 

She puts her hand on his arm as he goes to raise his glass again; the first time they’ve touched since the ceremony. He gives her a look she thinks might be questioning.

“Perhaps it would be a good idea to slow down a little?” she says. 

“Shit. Yeah. Sorry. You’re right” he sighs, letting go of the glass. “Sorry. I get really nervous about speaking in front of people.”

Penelope can’t relate. She loves a crowd, especially one that’s expected to pay attention to her. 

“I’m sure you’ll do fine” she says briskly. 

Scott’s expression falters, 

“Yeah” he says. “Thanks.”

He turns away to say something to his brother who’s sat beside him, and Penelope realises too late that he expected some sort of sympathy or encouragement. She shakes her head and turns back to her father who’s still rather droning on. She hopes that he quickly gets over this need to have his hand held through everything. She’s agreed to be a wife, not a babysitter. 

*

Scott had been lying when he said he had stage fright. But this damn woman is making it frickin’ hard to make any sort of connection. Her dismissive tone had made him turn to John and share his assessment of his new bride,

“It’s gonna be a long night.”

And so far it has been. His speech gets him a tight smile, which he thinks is pretty unfair since he had to sell being in love with a complete stranger to a room full of people he dislikes. 

He’s made multiple failed attempts to engage Penelope in conversation. Each time she finds an excuse to turn back to her father as quickly as she can. He sits there playing dumb as the pair of them have a whispered argument about the fact that she’s giving her husband the cold shoulder. Sick of it, he stands up and walks past them both to his new mother-in-law. 

“May I have this dance?” he asks, holding out a hand. 

Lady Elizabeth and her daughter look a great deal alike. And she seems to regard her husband with a similar level of indifference as his own wife has been showing to him. But she seems happy enough to dance with her son-in-law.

“Oh! Yes, thank you dear. That would be lovely.”

It’s the first nice thing Scott’s heard all day. And that’s nice, having someone actually smile at him. 

He leads Lady Elizabeth onto the dance floor. 

“We’re going to be friends, you and I” he says. “I’ve decided.”

Elizabeth laughs,

“Is that right?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well I’ve always admired a man who’s assertive” she says. “So you can call me Beth. All my friends do.”

“Thank you Beth” Scott smiles as they start to dance, “You can call me Scooter.”

“Oh no!” Beth wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that. I’ll stick with Scott.”

Scott laughs as they twirl. He tries to ignore Penelope watching them.

It proves harder than he expected.


	4. The Wedding Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just how awkward is it to have to go to bed with a near stranger you've been forced to marry? Let's find out!

Scott stands at the bottom of the stairs, feeling slightly like a man on the long walk to the executioner’s block. He’d actually begun to enjoy the party, but as midnight drew near Penelope had put a hand on his shoulder and told him she was going to bed.

“Oh! Okay” Scott had said. He hesitantly put his hand on her waist and kissed her cheek. It had felt more like an exchange with an elderly aunt than his new wife, but at least she leant into the kiss rather than away from it. It was nice to know he wasn’t completely repulsive. 

But the relief of getting through that encounter had been short lived when Jeff crossed the floor and took Scott’s elbow in a vice grip to pull him away from the group of friends he was talking to. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re letting your new wife go off to bed alone” Jeff hisses.

“Really?” Scott says, raising an eyebrow at his father, “That’s how far we’re taking this charade?”

“It’s your wedding night” Jeff insists. 

“Fine” Scott says, draining his champagne and shoving the empty glass against Jeff’s chest so he has to let go of Scott’s arm to stop it from falling to the floor, “But if she stabs me with one of those four thousand dollar shoes she’s wearing, on your head be it.”

That had been twenty minutes ago. And now he’s inside the manor. Stuck frozen at the bottom of the stairs, and nowhere near as drunk as he would like to be. 

*

Penny’s just drifting off when she hears the bedroom door open. She rolls over in bed, expecting one of her parents or perhaps a bridesmaid. When she realises it’s Scott she sits up and turns on her lamp. 

“Can I help you?” she asks archly. 

“I have been sent” Scott says, sitting down on the edge of the bed with his back to her so he can unlace his shoes. 

“Sent to do what?” Penelope demands. 

Scott turns to give her the most withering of looks.

“To go to bed” he says, derision dripping off every syllable. 

“Absolutely not!” Penelope says, pulling the covers protectively around herself. “You can sleep on the-”

"Look,” Scott cuts in suddenly. “I know we barely know each other and there's that old cliché about being a gentleman but at the same time I am not spending my wedding night sleeping on the floor. So we're going to be adults about this and share the bed and you're just going to have to trust me that I'm going to respect your personal space."

It’s the most he’s ever said to her, and she’s rather taken aback by that. And by the fact that he’s actually making a fairly reasonable point. She watches him start to get out of his dinner jacket as she tries to formulate an argument, her case weakened even further by the fact that one of the maids has apparently brought his bags up to her room. He’s pulling pyjamas and a toothbrush out of one as she settles on the only line of defence she can think of right now;

“But it’s  _ my _ bed” she says weakly.

  
“Well, now it’s  _ our _ bed” Scott says as he crosses to her bathroom to change. “Welcome to marriage.”


End file.
